


Highway to Heaven

by entrenched



Series: House of Gold [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (Because heaven knows they needed it), Developing Relationship, F/M, Slice of Life, Starting out as platonic but take as you like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-17 11:21:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20620196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entrenched/pseuds/entrenched
Summary: When Claude said he wanted to develop a deep and lasting friendship, he meant it.Flashfics of Byleth, Claude, and a year's attempts at mutual understanding.





	1. Victory Cry

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering "Do I have to read part 1 (or any part of this series) to understand this?" the answer is absolutely not. This is simply a brief collection of slice-of-life wedges than can be enjoyed independently.

Byleth Eisner has seen what fear looked like. 

In a not-so-distant past life, she served as the harbinger of fear. She slung her blade deftly, but with just enough time to see her reflection in the tearful eyes of her enemies. While the young woman would never easily admit her belief in things like divine punishment for her sins, she occasionally reconsidered that stance. 

Lecture days felt like divine punishment. 

The mercenary-turned-professor silently cursed herself – and Rhea, by association – for accepting a teaching position when she had never received a formal education herself. Byleth's status as the Ashen Demon did not mean as much as she hoped when she had to translate her skills into a student who may not have held a sword in their life. The rising waves of dread and fear teaching filled her with were sensations she was clearly not used to. If Byleth had to identify the last time she had such erratic breathing and flushed cheeks, it would have when she was on the brink of death following a nasty ambush. 

_Is this what it feels to be embarrassed?_

Oh, how her father would _love_ to see the mess she’s amounted to now. 

Fortunately, the students at the Officers Academy tended to be more than forgiving of their new professor’s less than conventional teaching methods. While a particularly sharp student could easily break down her teaching style as patchwork quilt of knowledge sewn from other professors, none of them paid any mind. This, however, did not keep Byleth from climbing out of class wondering whether the students were actually _learning_ anything or if they were simply being merciful.

“Careful, Teach,” greeted a distant voice. “You can put an eye out with that sharp glare of yours.” 

The Golden Deer leader quickened his pace to match the young professor’s stride toward an empty classroom. Byleth sighed in exhaustion as she placed a short stack of books, blank parchment, and a miniature hourglass on a desk at the head of the room.

“I’m not in the mood,” Byleth said flatly as she took a seat. 

“When are you ever?” Claude pouted at the doorway. His face fell slightly as he felt a warmth – an uncomfortable warmth – around the young woman at the desk. “I kid though, come on. I did come with serious business though.”

Byleth could only groan in reply. 

“I need to brief you on the Leader’s meeting before I forget everything they told me,” Claude continued as he took a seat across her. “Those meetings are usually huge info dumps, but with the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion coming up, it was an even bigger dump!” 

_The Battle of the Eagle and the Lion..._

Another groan.

_Are we going to be okay?_

Byleth continued to sit in a stagnant silence, her head buried in her arms and waves of hair. She briefly considered kicking her student in the shins to make him leave, partial punishment for witnessing a momentary show of weakness as an instructor. Through her arms, Byleth could hear a low, gentle hum from across her. Suddenly, she felt a hand graze the crown of her head, ruffling her dark teal locks.

“Don’t worry, I got you.”

—

“Okay, team meeting!” Claude clapped his hands together as his fellow Deer turned their heads.

“I don’t think there’s much time for a meeting, Claude,” Leonie said. Through the brick and wood of the monastery, she could hear the rest of the Academy moving toward the battlefield. 

“It’s almost time,” Ignatz added.

“I know, I know,” the Golden Deer leader said with a hand in the air. “I just wanted to get to all of you before Teach gets back.”

“So?” Hilda tilted her head to look out the window. “What’s so important, Leader? _We’ve got to win this one_, right?” 

“Hilda...” Claude knitted his eyebrows in irritation for a second before smiling sheepishly; he’ll critique her Claude voice another day. “Well, oddly enough, yeah. I _was _going to say that. How’d you know?”

“You’re not the only one who cares about the Professor, Claude,” Lysithea said from behind Marianne.

“She’s so strong,” Marianne mused as she looked down at her fingertips. “She’s made _us_ so strong. We owe her so much.”

“That’s the spirit!” Claude cheered as he locked Lorenz and Raphael by the neck, swinging his legs in the air. “Let’s show ‘em what we’ve got! For Teach!”

“For the Professor!” 

—

“This sucks!” Hilda pouted as she leaned against Leonie, examining the singed tips of her pigtails courtesy of Hubert.

“You’re fine,” Lorenz groaned, “what about _me_?!” He patted down a particularly nasty bruise Caspar delivered. He took note that he had some work to do regarding close combat.

“Oh, keep it down both of you,” Lysithea called as she casted white beams from her hands, leaning back-to-back against Marianne. “We’re almost th-” 

A deep horn echoed across the battlefield, followed by a deafening silence.

Like puppets being released from their master, students spread through the field dropped to their knees. Breath hitching and bleeding profusely, the Golden Deer students struggled to signal their status among themselves. 

A winner was to be declared. 

At the crest of the hill, the archbishop smiled gently. The ethereal woman dropped her gaze to meet Byleth’s eyes.

“Congratulations, Professor,” she announced. “A battle well fought, a victory well deserved. You’ve certainly established a glowing reputation.”

“Fantastic work,” Hanneman agreed.

“Like a symphony,” Manuela added, “absolutely beautiful work, Professor.” 

Something warm stirred inside Byleth.

_Is this pride? _

_Or ha-_

From behind, the young professor felt the forceful pressure of her students huddling around her. Even Marianne leaned her head against Hilda’s shoulder with a whisper of content in her shadowy gaze. Raphael all but lifted half the class into the air in excitement. The Deer remained huddled in an unsightly mess of blood and sweat, singing praises to their professor.

“I am _so_ proud,” Byleth proclaimed to the huddle. “You were all _amazing_.”

The young woman’s gaze softened, her mouth breaking into a beautiful beam.

**—**

**Epilogue**

That night, the Deer spilled into their dormitories with thanks to the Goddess for beds. After conducting a cursory role call to ensure nobody stopped breathing, Claude climbed into his own bed. He released a low hiss as he took stock of new injuries. For what it was worth, scratches and scars were nothing compared to the Deer having achieved the greatest of victories.

A fleeting smile as bright as the sun.


	2. Miss Congeniality

It took a bit of time, but when Byleth’s icy veneer broke down, it broke down in the best of ways. For the most part, the professor returned to her trademark deadpan stare, but the students no longer feared that they may have mortally offended her simply by asking a question. She was both cold and warm, sharp but approachable. As Byleth’s reputation swept the Academy, the professor’s calendar gradually filled with blocks of time for extracurricular activities with students. 

“We should do this again, Professor,” Ashe told the professor warmly as he excused himself from the ornate seat across her. Byleth waved in return as she watched the boy exit the garden, tucking her token of thanks in his pocket. 

“Well, look who’s become popular,” said a sing-songy voice from the bushes. The Golden Deer leader walked into the clearing and took Ashe’s abandoned seat. 

“Lady Rhea _did_ encourage student recruitment,” Byleth countered sheepishly as she began to put away her pot of tea. “Plus, it’s not my fault you students keep losing things.”

“Dear Professor, is that bribery I smell?” Claude cried with his hands in the air. “Honestly though, I keep getting petitions from random students to join the house, it’s ridiculous! At this rate, we’re going to have to impose a cut off or some ridiculous initiation to weed them all out,” he added mischievously.

“I thought you’d be pleased,” Byleth mused.

“Oh, you bet I am,” Claude nodded as he folded his arms behind his head. “But don’t you worry about me. I’m pretty easy to please. You’re the one doing all the work, Teach. I’m only happy because you look happy, as much as you’ll deny it.”

Byleth’s hands hovered over the sugar bowl as she considered his last point. “I know what everyone has said about me,” she admitted with eyes downcast, “I’ve always known.” 

“My father,” she continued, only vaguely aware that she had suddenly become so talkative. “He always told me I had this face, like I was somewhere else. I’m sure it pissed him off from time to time.

“Inside, he probably blamed himself, worried that something was wrong with me.” Byleth took a biscuit from the gilded pastry rack and tore at it absently. “It never bothered me much – nothing ever does – but I knew it bothered him. So he kept me close.” 

“Who would have thought the fabled Blade Breaker was just a big softy?”

“He could still break you in two.”

“It would be an honor,” Claude laughed. “Personally, I don’t think you had to work all _that_ hard. You don’t give yourself enough credit, Teach.” 

“Says the social butterfly.”

“Oh Teach, how wrong you’ve read me.” The house leader shifted in his seat and rested his arms on the table. “Young Claude could only have this many friends in his dreams. Perhaps that is all this is: a dream.”

“I don’t think you’re dreaming,” the professor said flatly. “You wouldn’t fail your midterm so easily in your dreams.” 

“Cold, Teach,” the young man replied with a hearty laugh. “In my defense, I was helping another lost soul last night with his own studies. Time just got away from me; so goes the tragedy of a tactical genius.”

“Geniuses don’t fail.”

Claude pouted in offense and buried his head in his arms. 

“If you’re so wounded, let me pour you a pot of tea.” Byleth offered. 

“No thanks, Teach.” The Golden Deer leader rose from his seat. He smiled softly at Byleth who had – in her sincerity – begun to reassemble her tea spread. “Tea makes me sleepy, and I’ve apparently got lots of studying to do. Besides, I don’t need any bribery. I like you lots already.”


	3. Mister Nice Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stars burn out.

Some days were better than others.

On good days, arrows made their marks and cheers were shared. On bad days, Byleth wishes she had stuck to freelance mercenary work, only because the day’s outcomes tended to look so similar. The difference between a mercenary and a professor, Byleth realized, was that these days weren't just hers anymore. A day was now that of more kids than she could count, some being good and others extremely bad all at once. Thankfully, as the moons shifted, the young professor gradually found her workarounds as she readied her students for war. 

Ignatz's worst days were, understandably, shrouded in mist and pouring rain. Nothing a reliable partner couldn’t fix. Hilda’s bad days easily turned into good days as long as you left her to her own devices. Marianne’s bad days used to be every day. While her changes were gradual and minimal at best, but they were there and that was victory enough.

Claude, however, did not seem to have bad days: just days.

Initially, Byleth chalked up the Alliance heir’s infallibly optimistic attitude as a natural foil against his fellow house leaders, an attempt to separate himself. However, whether it was in class or in battle, Claude brought the same cup of cheer to every table. His refreshing temperament served as a reliable equalizer when tensions got too high or spirits dropped too low.

The Golden Deer leader had his own fleeting moments of frustration and anguish, as all humans did, but he always seemed to bounce back in a way that was abnormally fast. 

Set something on fire?

“It happens to everyone!”

Fell into a ditch?

“I'm not dead, right?”

Even amid the worst failures, it seemed that Claude – as a rule – did not leave a conversation without a grin coupled with some assurance that things would be okay. 

“Things are going to be fine,” his smiles offered.

“They have to be,” his eyes countered. 

While Byleth would never nominate herself as the poster child for emotional understanding, she at least knew a lie when she saw one. As the professor and leader grew closer, she had also grown convinced that even Claude's well had the capacity to run dry. If it had, indeed, run dry, Byleth could then safely confirm that the warmth he was leaving behind was nothing but artificial sunlight. 

As the young man cloaked in gold broke from her side following a lengthy strategic meeting, he patted her shoulder to take his leave.

“Don’t you ever get tired?” Byleth asked quietly as Claude hand left her.

“Oh, I think we’re all tired of this stuff by now, Teach,” the leader laughed as he headed toward the door.

“Not of this,” the professor frowned. “Of that. You’re always smiling.”

“Yeah, and so is Sylvain,” Claude noted. “What a compliment though! It’s not like you to be so forward. You okay?”

Byleth rubbed the space between her brows. “Never better,” she waved a hand in the air. “And just… stop… doing that!”

“Doing what?”

“That!” Byleth found herself dangerously close to her boiling point, a space she rarely visited in the presence of people outside her father. “Each time you come close to sounding like you take anything seriously, you ruin it!”

Claude paused for a moment before turning a heel toward the young professor. He eased himself back into the seat across her. “Funny you mention that,” he started. “You and I are too much alike: you have your secrets and I have mine.”

“Nothing wrong with that, of course,” the leader continued as he twisted the tip of his braid absently. “For whatever reason, you’re locked up tight and whenever it seems like a tiny piece of you is shining through that _face_ of yours, you jump right back in.”

“This conversation is supposed to be about you,” Byleth said, her voice steeped in irritation.

Secondary to maintaining his ambiguously optimistic attitude, Claude had an uncanny talent for turning tables on people. Together, they were hallmarks of both a truly gifted leader and an utterly petrified teenage boy.

“Well, what would you like, Teach?” Claude knitted his fingers together and rested his elbows on the worn wooden table. “You want me to scowl at people? ‘Cause that’s not a great leadership trait, now is it?”

“Well, no.” Byleth slowly met his calculating gaze. “I just never know what you’re thinking. When you're smiling, it’s as if _just_ your mouth is smiling. I can never tell what you’re actually thinking.”

“Well, Teach, if you really want to know,” Claude started as he leaned in. Byleth had stared down much fiercer prey in the past, but it was unsettling how calmly the young man wielded ferocity when he was challenged. “All you have to do is ask.”

“Fine,” Byleth huffed. With a sharp breath in and a defeated breath out, Byleth mustered her best attempt at comfort. “Are you okay?” 

Truthfully, the young man wanted nothing more than to laugh, but he had to respect her sincerity. He leaned back into his chair. Placing his hands on his lap, Claude finally said, “Now that I think about it, no, I’m not. Thanks for asking.” 

“Is there anything I can...?”

“Nope,” Claude said abruptly. “But I will say this: I may have learned too early how ugly the world can get... though you must know that feeling more than anyone.” 

_And I do._

“Though, I got a little tired of looking at everyone and everything that way. Perhaps I’ve screamed and cried enough in another lifetime that all I can do now is smile.” Claude looked up at her, eyes finally eased and exhausted. He noted to avoid mind games with the professor at all costs from this point forward, as she was very good. 

“Don’t worry, Teach. It’s not all fake, or at least I hope not. Maybe keeping people’s glasses half full is my shot at making the world a little less ugly. Taking responsibility for it, if you will.” 

Byleth sat quietly, unsure what to do with her student. 

“I guess you can say that I’ve cooked up a weird style of dealing with things.” Claude ended ruefully. “If I may ask, Teach: can you just let me be weird?” 

The midnight bargain was an interesting proposal. What started as a passing comment to quell Byleth’s growing frustration with Claude morphed into an explosion of a can of worms the professor did not even know existed. Fortunately, Byleth was not so marred by the leader’s speech that she did not see the trap he was laying out for her. 

Claude was offering, as he often did, to take it all back.

“That request doesn’t sit well with me,” Byleth decided. “I can’t run a house with a leader I can’t see eye-to-eye with. However, I can allow it if I may I counter your request with one of my own.” 

“Go for it.” 

_Stop running away?_

_Stop lying?_

“Be honest,” Byleth replied. “At least try.”

_At least with me._

“Old habits die hard, my dear professor,” Claude said with a coy grin. “However, you drive a hard bargain. For you, I will try. Deal?”

The Golden Deer leader offered his hand in what appeared to be a genuinely happy defeat.

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [weeps openly about that line about his smile not meeting his eyes] 
> 
> This is just the fic equivalent of the 'Are you tired of being nice?' meme.


	4. You Never Walk Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't go where we can't follow.

_If the Divine Pulse had truly failed, why did time stop?_

The day Jeralt died, Byleth could not decide whether something inside her died with him. 

While the young professor was largely unscathed in her father’s assassination, every fiber of her being throbbed and burned like fresh wounds they used to share together. Jeralt breathed his last to his only child, words prideful and loving. The power of that love tore through his daughter’s insides like a final test that there was something indeed inside her. 

_You’re going to be okay, kid._

Footsteps sloshed on the damp ground as figures crowded around Byleth. The weight on her shoulders, was it a cloak or the rain? The cacophony of words in the huddle, were they calling to her? Were they sad? Angry? 

It didn’t really matter anymore.

_—_

The scent of blood and rain did not fade.

“I’m so sorry,” a voice offered somberly as a pair of hands passed Byleth’s coat to her through a wedge in the doorway. 

Byleth did not know how to break it to the staff that, even after multiple vigorous washes, her uniform still reeked of the same nightmare. The professor ran a bitter hand over the black fabric, wondering just how much time she had spent in the dark of her room. She could have easily counted the number of times someone had offered to bring her a meal, but she lost track. 

She was so tired.

“It’s time to go, kid,” said nobody. 

There was nobody.

There will always be nobody.

—

“Welcome back.”

With Byleth’s first steps back into the land of the living, she had never heard a single sentiment rephrased in so many ways by so many people. The sentiment was usually delivered by students and faculty alike with nervous lips and downcast eyes, each one returned with a single silent nod.

Byleth had only enough energy to nod at her sea of condolences as she made her way to the Golden Deer classroom.

The Deer froze in wide-eyed wonder as their professor strode to the front of the room. While the students eagerly anticipated the professor's eventual return, they had not expected it to come so suddenly. Hilda straightened herself as she placed a hand over her mouth, the other hand clutching Marianne’s. Lorenz steeled himself beside Raphael for reasons even he did not know. As Byleth set her books at the front, the Deer sat collectively speechless and yet ready to burst.

“Let’s begin,” the professor said vacantly as she turned her attention to the board. Byleth conducted her lecture for the day as powerfully as she always used to with little room for rest. Her words were crisp, calm, and calculating as she delivered the lesson without flaw. 

Just like she used to.

Indeed, it was as if time stopped. 

—

“Mind if I sit here?”

“Do as you please.” 

Byleth stood at the dock with her fishing rod as she often did on the weekends. The professor steadied the rod in her hands as she felt the Golden Deer leader perch himself a safe distance beside her. Claude sat within arms-length, his legs dangling from the dock. At the corner of her eye, Byleth noticed that her student had already rolled up his pant legs and removed his shoes. It was a sign he had no immediate plans to leave, and that fact annoyed her more than she could describe.

_Leave me alone._

A steady silence rolled between teacher and student, interrupted only briefly by the sound of soft ripples in the water. 

“It’s nice seeing you again,” Claude said finally. He did not dare look Byleth in the eyes.

“Well, I have a job to do,” she responded curtly. 

“You always used to say that,” he could not help but say. “When you first started.”

Byleth gripped her fishing pole and retrieved her lure from the water. “What do you want?” the professor managed through gritted teeth. 

“I don’t want anything from you,” Claude started carefully. “Except for you to listen to what I have to say.” 

_Just leave._

“I came to say that we… _I_ never had the right to expect you back so soon,” Claude said in what seemed to be uncharacteristic nervousness. “I wanted you to come back, but _this_ is not what I wanted.” 

_There’s something wrong with me._

“Then I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Byleth started in exasperation before Claude cut back in.

“No, I mean… argh, I don’t know how to say this.” He said as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

“Just say it!” The professor snapped. 

“We all don't want you to go back – back to the way you used to be… not that there was anything really wrong with you before,” Claude added quickly. Every word tumbled clumsily from the leader’s mouth between uneven breaths, as if he questioned each phrase before letting it go. If Byleth had not considered their current conversation largely annoying, she would have found the Deer leader’s momentary bashfulness endearing. 

“All I’m trying to tell you is that you shouldn’t feel obligated to return to us.” Claude’s words sped up as his pleas persisted. “Take all the time you want: away from the class, away from Rhea, away from me, whatever and wherever you want. Whatever it is you need to do to come back – like _really_ come back _– _just do it.” 

Claude took a sharp breath. “Just… don’t go back to _that._” 

_There’s nothing inside._

_Empty._

“There’s no time…” Byleth said quietly.

“Then we’ll make time, Teach,” Claude interrupted. “I know we’re just your students, but please let us have your back just once. You said yourself that you could be hard to reach, and I agreed with you. But now that we’ve finally caught up to you, you’re so far away again.”

Byleth lowered her gaze for the first time that afternoon to meet her student’s green eyes. For a young man whose reputation practically hinged on being a mood-maker, Claude was as somber as she’d ever seen.

“Anyway, I’m sorry for eating up your time,” he apologized as he swung his legs back onto the dock. “I’m sure I had no right to talk to you like this. You’re my professor, after all. But more importantly, you’re one of the greatest friends I’ve ever known, and I’d rather have you hate me if it means you heard me out.”

As Claude shifted his position to leave, the professor placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

_Wait._

Byleth bent down beside him, silently passing the young leader her fishing pole. She dangled her legs as Claude had, letting the tips of her toes poke ripples in the glassy water. 

_Wait for me._

Shoulder to shoulder, the two sat by the water wordlessly until the sun went down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna do Intsys a solid and slide this into the space after they talk about Jeralt’s diary, because you CANNOT expect me to be satisfied with just that exchange and get away with it.


End file.
